~Once again, we find ourselves returning to the quiet warehouse owned by Peter Vaughn. At least, everyone assumes he owns it. Wouldn't it be a trip if it turned out that Vaughn has been breaking into this warehouse for his own use this entire time? Wouldn't that be crazy? But for now, let's just stick with that he has the right to be here.~
~This time, the warehouse space looks to be remarkably empty, except for what appears to be a round object covered by a cloth in the middle of the room. The camera starts to focus on this cloaked item, expecting an activity from it, but instead, there's a loud, grinding noise to the left. The camera turns, showing one of the garage doors of the warehouse opening up, inch by inch. As it does so, a blinding light begins to flow through the widening crack, quickly overwhelming the camera's dimming abilities. Nonetheless, the cameraman stays focused, as the shot soon becomes one bright, squarish light. After a few seconds, a figure can be seen, stepping forward, although it's not easy to make him out. He walks through the light, into the warehouse, with both hands propped before him as if in prayer. As he gets a little closer, we can finally make out the details of one Peter Vaughn.~
Peter Vaughn: Hello, again, my children. Hello again, Sin City. Namaste.
~Vaughn gives a slight bow towards the camera, then raises up, bringing both hands into the air. It appears like he's holding a relic of some kind, reverently displaying it in the air. He then slowly grips it with both hands... and presses the button. The remote control immediately turns off the halo-style spotlights behind him. It takes a moment, but the camera adjusts, allowing us to see Vaughn, and the spotlights, clearly for the first time. He smiles towards the camera.~
Peter Vaughn: You'll forgive the indulgence there, I trust? For some reason, I felt like making a... Godly entrance...
~Vaughn presses another button, and the garage door immediately closes again. Hopefully no one steals the spotlights from the alley outside.~
Peter Vaughn: You see, when I won my Roulette Rules match over Malachi on the last Climate Control, and put down the Bulldog as well, I was feeling pretty powerful. It seemed like my destiny was ready to go up in lights, earning me my first championship in SCW. And then the news broke: once again, I would be facing my ally in the Saviors, "Godly" Ken Davison, this time in a Fatal Fourway match along with the poor boyos I had already taken out.
~Vaughn shakes his head, even as he steps closer to the covered object in the center of the room.~
Peter Vaughn: Last time we fought, Kenny, it wasn't exactly a clean decision between us. You did have the better night... thanks to your having a better random tag-team partner. I mean, that's just my luck, isn't it? Excel as a singles competitor, never finding the right partner for the tag-team ranks. But I have to admit, your joining the match after falling in the tournament did get my interest. I thought, hey, this is going to be a competitive one, with an amazing chance that the Saviors would get the Roulette Title. I was quite fascinated by the possible fight. I looked forward to facing a God once again.
~Suddenly, Vaughn stops moving, and his shoulders seem to slump.~
Peter Vaughn: That's until I received word that the doctors had refused to clear Kenny for action. I guess even Gods get injured. So here's the deal, Kendrick. Once I win the Roulette Championship, and once you're finally fit for action, I'll offer you an opportunity whenever you want it. Because let's face it: SCW clearly wants us to fight, and they really want the last of the Saviors to fall. Maybe we can give them a Five-Star affair as we move forward into the light, eh?
~Vaughn takes a moment to recover, then smirks towards the camera.~
Peter Vaughn: And then... there were three. Myself, a five-time World Champion with incredible victories all across the world. The Bulldog, who's probably still a little delirious from the clubbing I gave him last show, but also the only man in this one to hold top-tier gold in SCW. And Malicky, the man who thought he could easily take down the Mechanic and found himself knocked cold. This isn't really set up to be a war. It's set up to be a slaughter. Of course, a lot of that depends on... the random factor.
~Vaughn reaches over, finally pulling off the cloth to reveal a custom-made Roulette table underneath. Vaughn pats the side of it, grinning, his own craftsmanship having gone into building this device. We can see that, much like SCW's version, there are numerous match possibilities set up.~
Peter Vaughn: I've gone back and watched numerous Roulette matches to begin to prepare for this one. I already know about the Staple Gun variation, and let me just say, that wasn't a pleasant experience, even if I DID get the victory. But there are so many other possibilities. For instance, last year's Into The Void match was fought under Submission rules.
~With a twist of the spinner, Submission is brought to the arrowed portion.~
Peter Vaughn: Some might think that would put me at a disadvantage, but I do have a few special moves I like to break out in a match like this. And hey, who doesn't enjoy making their opponent scream in agony and have to tell the referee that they submit to the pain? I'm sure I could surprise Mr. Maliki with my Calf Crusher, for instance. But what if, say, it becomes a Ladder match?
~The dial is once again turned, bringing up another match stipulation underneath.~
Peter Vaughn: That'd be in the realm of my specialty, high-flying, so you might as well give me the championship right now. Neither of the guys left will be able to move near as quickly as I could. I'd probably have the belt and be halfway to the back before Bully and Mally even realized the match was over. It'd be pretty funny to see their faces, really. But let's face it, the most likely destination for us is, well... something extreme.
~Vaughn points at several of the items left on the spinner, including "Hardcore Rules", "Falls Count Anywhere", and "Graveyard". He taps that one for a few seconds.~
Peter Vaughn: Odds are probably high that we'll be in a match with little to no rules. This Graveyard one, it was an interesting watch, seeing everyone try to toss their opponents into graves to win. And hey, who knows? It could come up again, and I'll be literally burying my competition.
~Chuckling to himself, Vaughn turns and smacks the spinner, sending it flying through all of the various categories. As it spins, Vaughn turns back to the camera.~
Peter Vaughn: The Roulette Rules certainly make this contest a lot more intriguing... but ultimately? The choice doesn't matter.
~With that, Vaughn hefts a sledgehammer out from behind the structure. As the spinner is starting to slow down, Vaughn lets loose, smashing straight into it! Pieces shatter in all directions, as Vaughn swings again and again, leaving a great deal of wreckage to clean up later. Finally satisfied, Vaughn turns back.~
Peter Vaughn: You see... the match stipulation doesn't matter. The competition in the match doesn't matter. The people who will be watching this with drool dripping down their chins? They don't matter, either. All that matters is that it's Peter Vaughn and it's a championship contest. No matter the rules, no matter who's in and who's out... I'm taking that championship home, adding it to my impressive collection. And there's nothing anyone out there will be able to do to stop me.
~With that, Vaughn tosses the sledgehammer into the pile of debris, before turning and walking off. The camera quickly scans the wreckage, seeing that what's left of the spinner is now pointing towards a unique stipulation: Armageddon. We slowly cut away.~
~As the shot comes back into view, we can hear the noise you usually associate with a large gathering of people in one room. The camera pans the large room, showing what almost looks like a courtroom, except it's been repurposed for a gathering area, as the judge's area has been switched to a long string of tables. Seated at the center of the tables is a familiar man to those who watched last week: David Schoeder finishes talking to the man next to him, and then turns forward, grabbing up a gavel and hammering it to get everyone's attention.~
David Schoeder: Alright, now, everyone settle down. Let's get this Union meeting back in order. Are we ready to continue?
~There are some mumbled agreements from the various men seated all around. There isn't a lot of excitement in a meeting like this, usually. Apparently, though, that's about to change, as Schoeder seems to take a long, deep breath before reaching for the paperwork in front of him.~
David Schoeder: As we're up to date on everything that's been happening, it's time to discuss some new business. While I know this has been spoken of before in smaller settings, I believe the time is right for us to bring this matter before everyone's attention. Yes, it's time to discuss the cattle application of one Peter Vaughn of the PMV Ranch...
~There are some shocked shouts from the crowd, as few were expecting this to be brought up. Some furious murmuring commences throughout the group, even as Schoeder again reaches for the gavel.~
David Schoeder: Settle down, people! This petition was brought to us months ago, and the submitter has been quite... persistent. As you all know, I'm a fair man, and I truly believe that everyone deserves their chance to be heard.
~As Schoeder talks, the screen splits for a few moments, showing on the bottom Schoeder's meeting with Vaughn the previous week... and how Vaughn revealed he knew Schoeder's most secret bank account. Vaughn used this information to blackmail Schoeder into what's happening today, while also promising that he could increase Schoeder's bank account if he follows through. It's hard to say if fear or greed was the larger motivating factor for Schoeder, but either way, it clearly worked.~
David Schoeder: As you all know, it will take a majority vote here today for Mr. Vaughn's cattle application to be approved, allowing him to raise livestock on his ranch. Mr. Vaughn is here today to speak to all of you.
~The door swings open on the left, with Peter Vaughn stepping out. He seems to have been given a lesson in what to wear, possibly from Schoeder himself, as the coveralls, for once, are not to be seen. Instead, Vaughn portrays the stereotypical image of what everyone believes a rancher should look like. Honestly, on Vaughn, it looks strange, as it's so different from how he normally dresses. But to the union members, it seems to generate a slight increase in respect, as he steps up to the mic.~
Peter Vaughn: Thank you for this time, Mr. Chairman. I'll try not to waste it. To those who don't know me, I am Peter Vaughn, and yes, I am a professional wrestler. But apart from that, I am also a man who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. Since I purchased the PMV Ranch last year, I have worked hard to rebuild the ranch to its former glory. I have made several renovations, not shying away from the hard work that all of you have likely grown up with all of your lives.
~Only those that know Vaughn would hear the slight sarcasm in that comment. Most of the 'fat cats' in here have lived their rich lives with other ranch hands doing the work for them, while they reaped the benefits.~
Peter Vaughn: I think I have proven that I am taking the life of a rancher seriously. I am willing to put in the long hours and make the PMV Ranch a truly profitable endeavor. Many of you, I've taken the time to speak with over the past few weeks, and I hope I've made my points clear to all of you.
~The camera shot switches to several individuals in the audience, some looking more uncomfortable than others. The split-screen once again reappears, this time showing Vaughn speaking to each one of them behind closed doors. One, he's clearly threatening, showing off a series of pictures that were taken of the union member in question. In another, Vaughn is shaking the hand of an older man, having made a deal for future teamwork between them in the future, increasing both of their profits while working to shut down a competitor. The third shot shows Vaughn walking out of an office, as the man behind him slumps to the floor, crying, holding some unknown paperwork. That man still looks green in the gills as he sits nervously in the union meeting. It's clear that Vaughn has, truly, been working hard for his goals, even if his methods aren't exactly role-model material.~
Peter Vaughn: I have every faith that all of you will see that I am ready to prove myself deserving of being in your space of existence. I may not have been born a rancher, but I got here as fast as I could, and being a true Texan at heart, I'm always ready to aim big. All I need is you to give me that opportunity. Thank you.
~Vaughn nods and steps away, to applause from the gathering. Some clap louder than others. Some, like Vaughn's main rival, Judd Harrison, refuse to raise their hands at all. Vaughn doesn't seem to care, as he heads back out the door he came. Schoeder hammers once again to quiet everyone down.~
David Schoeder: Now, we all know how this works. We can have discussions today about Mr. Vaughn's application, and then we will have our vote at the next meeting. For my part, I see Mr. Vaughn as a valuable addition to our ranks, as he is clearly a man who will not stop until he gets what he wants. I will be voting for accepting his application. Would anyone else like to speak?
~Everyone looks around, as few usually like to be the first one up to go against the Head of the Union. But that doesn't stop Judd Harrison, as he steps up and walks to the mic.~
Judd Harrison: As you all know, I'm basically neighbors with Mr. Vaughn's ranch. And you should hear all the crazy sounds that come from there! This man deems himself an 'inventor', creating a series of machines to take the place of true ranchers while he goes around the world punching people in their faces. Ever since he bought the old Six-Star ranch from Mark Pettigrew's widow, Vaughn has done nothing but become a mockery of our profession. I can't even believe we're discussing this right now, if I'm being honest.
~Harrison turns and glares back at Schoeder, who has the good sense to not look away, lest it reveal something about what's changed.~
Judd Harrison: It's an easy decision here, gentlemen. Turn this wrass-ler down and let's get back to doing business the right way!
~There is some cheers from the more vocal members of the Union, even as Harrison steps down. He looks surprised, though, at the individuals who didn't seem to cheer with them. One even gets up and takes his spot at the mic, beginning to give praise to Vaughn. This is the man we saw crying in his office earlier. Taking in a quick measurement of the room, Harrison excuses himself and steps outside. He gets on his cell phone, looking around in annoyance.~
Judd Harrison: Yeah, this is Judd. Look, I don't know what Vaughn's got on people, but I'm sensing some bad vibes from in there. We need to nip this in the bud before the vote takes place, and I think I know how. It's time to exploit Vaughn's own reputation against him. Here's what we're gonna do...
~Harrison turns away, quietly speaking into the phone, as we break away.~
Confucius was quoted as saying "The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones."
Did he actually say that? Who knows. But it's an apt analogy. When you set yourself up some nearly impossible goals for your future, you have to start moving step by step towards them. You need to chop away, swing by swing, until you reach what you're aiming for.
Besides, I like thinking of Malimar and the doggy as being small stones in my journey.
It's interesting to me that the press releases for Into The Void XII were referring to Mal as a "future champion". It's almost as if they're setting up the fans' hopes on him to take out the Saviors and finally achieve that destiny of his or something. The problem is, when you refer to someone as a "future champion", you expect them to make that climb. You see them as achieving greatness and moving on to a Hall of Fame career.
But Malachi has been here for THREE years.
Don't you think by now, if he was going to become a singles champion, he would have done it already? Has it just been bad luck? Bad timing? A combination of the two? Or is it possible... is it PROBABLE that Mally just isn't putting in the work necessary to rise up to those lofty expectations? I mean, I didn't see his 'potential' being achieved when we fought. Oh, sure, he got in some hits on me, especially with that damned staple gun. If anything he showed me that I need to practice with staples more.
I prefer the nail gun variety. More accurate, you understand.
But in the end, I easily reversed his terrible finisher and planted him in the ground with one of my better moves, the Keyholder. That said, it's not exactly my most dominant finisher, is it? I didn't give him the Plunge. I didn't get my Revenged. But I still put him down and out, getting that three count to dash the hopes of everyone in that audience that I would get pinned.
That has to be rattling around in that large skull of yours, Malk. You have to be thinking, "I had everything available to me. Every advantage. And he still beat me clean." Hell of a rough morale strike, isn't it, going into a contest like this? Now you not only have to defeat me, you have to find a way to survive the Bully Dog as well. The odds are truly not in your favor. Anyone who's betting on you to win is just hoping for that miracle long-shot.
Hey, maybe the Roulette wheel will make it a Wood-Chopping Contest or something. You never know. That'd be about the only way ol' Mally would have an opportunity to win... although I still think I'd beat him in the end.
I think I'll always beat him in the end.
~The video cuts back in, showing us at Chamberlain’s Steak & Chop House, one of the better steak houses in Dallas. Inside, seated at a table, Vaughn sits back in contentment, having just worked over a beautifully cooked New York Strip. He finishes the final bite, swallowing it down, as he looks over at his half-brother, Thomas Hill, who seems to just be pushing his fork around his plate at this point.~
Peter Vaughn: You doing okay there, Thomas? You've barely touched your... what the hell was that called again?
Thomas Hill: It's an almond crusted goat cheese salad with scallops added in.
~Vaughn can't hide his shudder, as it was completely involuntary.~
Peter Vaughn: Sometimes I really wonder if we're actually related, half-brother...
Thomas Hill: Normally it tastes great... it's just... I can't stop thinking about your appeal to the cattle union...
Peter Vaughn: What about it? I told you, it went well. They listened to me, and I'm cautiously optimistic about our chances.
Thomas Hill: Yeah... but that's part of the problem. They listened to you.
Peter Vaughn: Wait, that's a problem now? I thought you'd see it as good news.
~Hill is quiet for a moment, still picking at his salad, before finally saying the question that's been on his mind.~
Thomas Hill: Did you do anything... illegal... in order to get them to listen to you, Peter?
~A normal individual would probably have feigned shock and outrage at being called out. Vaughn, though, isn't your normal anything. He simply shrugs, taking a drink from his beer before answering.~
Peter Vaughn: I wouldn't say illegal. I'm sure it'd be frowned upon by some people... but it's part of the business. If anything, Harrison has taught me that much.
Thomas Hill: Peter... if I'm going to be a part of this... I need things to be legitimate. I know you're used to skirting the edges of the rules in the wrestling business, but we're in a whole different world now. You've already stirred up the hornet's nest. I really don't want to be the one who gets stung.
Peter Vaughn: Seriously, you're worried about that? You should know by now that I'll have everything handled. Nothing's going to go wrong, trust me. The head of the union, Schoeder? He and I have an understanding, and I'm sure he's going to come through for us. And if something happens there, I've got several other irons in the fire. We are going to succeed, Thomas. You think I'd be here eating this expensive meal if I thought we were going to fail?
Thomas Hill: Hard to say. You never said who's paying for this.
~Vaughn genuinely laughs, a sound you don't hear too often from the man. His half-brother is one of the few people who can actually seem to reach him, bringing out some of his old emotions before the 'treatment' that changed his life forever. Vaughn nods, taking out his wallet.~
Peter Vaughn: Don't worry, I won't stick you with the bill. I've got the winnings from Malachi ready to be spent, and I can't think of any better way to use it than to spend it like a champion would. Of course, if you'd get around to getting me that company credit card for the ranch, we could use that...
Thomas Hill: I already told you, Peter, the bank turned us down. They seem to think that giving a card like that to a ranch would be a risky business decision for them.
~Vaughn grumbles, finishing his beer before standing up and putting some cash on the table.~
Peter Vaughn: Once I'm done with the union, I'll work on that particular problem as well. And I always find solutions, Thomas. Now let's get out of here. Do you need a box for... uh, that?
~Vaughn gestures at the half-eaten salad, but Thomas just shakes his head and gets up as well.~
Thomas Hill: It's not worth saving. Let's just go home.
~Looking relieved that he doesn't have to get that monstrosity boxed up, Vaughn nods, and the two men head out of the restaurant. They look around on the street, spotting where Vaughn parked his prized truck, Gabriela, and start heading that way.~
Thomas Hill: I just hope all this political nonsense doesn't distract you from your big match at Into The Void.
Peter Vaughn: Nah, this won't interfere with that at all. Just like the union, I've got several plans ready in order to take that championship. Believe me, half-brother... I'm ready for just about anything.
~As the two men reach the truck, a siren is suddenly heard. A police vehicle parks right behind the truck, with the two officers getting out, brandishing their weapons.~
Police Officer: Peter Vaughn! Stay right where you are with your hands visible at all times!
~Hill, immediately raising his hands, turns towards his half-brother, who looks legitimately shocked.~
Thomas Hill: You were saying?
~Vaughn can only shrug his shoulders, even as he raises his hands as well, having no idea what's going on.~
Okay, so even I can't be prepared for everything. But then, the same is true of my opponents.
Just look at Heartburn, who played at being a referee last show. He wasn't expecting to get so 'involved' in the conflict, was he? He sure wasn't expecting me to give him a dose of the Keyholder afterwards. I could tell by his shocked expression... just before he hit the mat and stopped seeing anything for a while.
I will admit, that was a little petty of me. I can't complain about how the referee'ing went in the match, after all. But I couldn't help myself, Bullfrog. You left yourself so wide open... and I hate to miss an opportunity to teach a lesson. I wonder, did you learn anything from it? Or will you be just as vulnerable in the future?
I guess only time will tell.
The oddsmakers would say you're the biggest threat left, Billy, now that we've lost a God. But you know what? I'm really not that scared of a Georgia Bulldog. Give him a Doberman or a Pitbull any day, and they'd shred that bulldog to pieces. They're slow, they're usually overweight, and you can tell when they're near the end of their rope. Just like you, Billy Boy.
Let's face it, you've had a good run here, maybe not an exceptional one, but a good one nonetheless. But you're not padding your stats with another victory at Into The Void, no sir. Kenny may be gone, but the Mechanic's still going to be there to make your life worse than a squashed Georgia peach. I've already proven that I can take you down. Now I just have to show the world that I can take you out.
Really, the best option you and Mally might have is to try and work together against me. I'm cocky, but not stupid. It'd be an uphill battle, fighting both of you at once in a Handicap match. But then again, you can't share that Roulette Title, can you? So it'd just be a matter of time before Malic's greed got the best of him and he waited for you to turn your back... as you're known to do.
So I wouldn't trust him, Bill. I wouldn't trust him at all. But hey, that's just me. Take whatever chances you think you need to in order to have a chance at winning.
Maybe it won't even be as bad as a staple shot to the groin this time. Or maybe we'll find a way to make it worse.
Once I've planted you in the ground and you've taken the Plunge, Billy, I'll have beaten three former champions here in SCW, and I'll be firmly established as one of the great Roulette Champs of all time. I will hold that belt with pride and dignity, defending it against everyone who deserves a shot.
And let's be fair, I'll probably defend it against undeserving doofuses, too, because that's just the way the wrestling business works.
Either way, Billy, Mally, you're going to find yourselves out of the running. Mal will once again have to live with just being a "future champion", and Bill will have nothing left but to look back on his glory days and wonder where it all went.
While me? I'm going to continue building my ladder of accomplishments, making my way up to the top of SCW step by step, inch by inch. I'm not getting stopped by you two boyos, and I'm not getting stopped by anyone else. The gold will be flowing, and the Saviors will be taking over all of the top spots.
Ready yourselves, kids. The war is just about to begin. See you then.
~As Hill and Vaughn keep their hands in the air, the two officers approach them. We can already see people watching from the sides, getting out their phones to record everything. That's what we do now in society, hoping for something good for TMZ.~
Peter Vaughn: So... something I can help you with, fellas? Did I miss a parking ticket or something? I thought I had everything paid off.
Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent, Vaughn. I recommend you use it. Turn around. You're under arrest.
~The officer turns Vaughn around forcibly, grabbing his arm. Vaughn's eyes flash, as if he's about to react in his normal fashion. But Thomas, seeing what might happen, quickly steps in.~
Thomas Hill: Officer, please! There's no need for that. He'll go along... quietly. Won't you, Peter?
~Vaughn glances over at Thomas, who has a pleading look on his face. Vaughn sighs, then seems to relax slightly as the handcuffs are put on.~
Thomas Hill: Now, if I can ask, what's the charge? Is this because of something to do with wrestling?
~As the second officer steps in, working to take Vaughn over to the police vehicle, the first one gives Thomas a cynical grin.~
Police Officer: The charge? That's easy. Vaughn here is under arrest for assault and bribery. He's also coming in due to his involvement in the death of one Mark Pettigrew.
Thomas Hill: Wait... Pettigrew? The guy who used to own the ranch? Peter didn't even know him before he died! This makes no sense! Peter? What's going on??
~Hill looks upset, as if he's not completely sure about his half-brother's capacity for violence. He looks over for reassurance as Vaughn is loaded into the car. Vaughn just looks back, not looking too concerned.~
Peter Vaughn: You know where the spare keys are kept, Thomas. Keep Gabriela safe, okay?
~All Thomas can do is weakly nod, even as the officers get into the car and pull out, driving away. The police vehicle stops at the next stop sign, spending a slightly longer amount of time than needed to sit there. As Vaughn looks out the passenger window, he can see the man in the truck nearby. Judd Harrison gives him a sly grin and tips his hat, having been there to witness it all. Vaughn glares at him as the police car moves on, leaving Harrison behind to bask in his triumph. We fade out.~
